


specimen

by brandywine421



Series: UYL Thursdays [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Families of Choice, Forced Pregnancy, Human Experimentation, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5723950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandywine421/pseuds/brandywine421
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"As far as I can tell, it went down a couple of days ago.  One of the dead techs is missing a car and clothes were missing from the staff locker rooms.  They killed their captors and simply walked out."</p>
<p>"So we've got an assassin that's been out of brainwashed Soviet control for less than a year, a man that's been dead 70 years and an assassin that's been frozen in the basement for fuck knows how long - all on the run together."</p>
<p>"It could be a great sitcom or a Dateline documentary waiting to happen," Thirteen muttered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>**AU for everything always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	specimen

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't quite a new's year resolution, it's more of an 'unfuck your life' plan. I even have a checklist. I am one whole day in and have four boxes checked for Thursday already. *preens* Nobody needs to know how many boxes are on Thursday, because FOUR is almost as good as half.
> 
> Anyway, all that jazz (*hands*) is for Mondays, Fridays and Sundays where there is a box for journaling. (Tuesday, Wednesdays and Saturdays are for dragons.) 
> 
> Thursday is for fic and I would like to check that box with my pretty purple pen.
> 
> This isn't a WIP or an abandoned story (*pauses for gasps*), it's just 5 days of hyperactive 'your life is shit so think about something else forever' self-indulgent melodrama. A lot of the action takes place offscreen, it's not deep or high art, but it was a lot of fun and killed a lot of time I should have been using to unfuck my life.

  
  
"When did we get a redhead?" Rumlow asked, nodding his chin at the railing that overlooked the stable of subjects.  
  
The boss didn't glance up from his tablet.  "She defected from the KGB, amazing record but we don't have a use for traitors."  
  
"Didn't we buy the Asset from the Russians?" Rumlow asked.  
  
"Yeah, and he killed a bunch of Soviets on our leash so they're not as willing to trade off.  She came to us, one of Fury's recruits brought her in to be a white hat," Pierce said, finally raising his head.  "She's sentient, so we can't compare her to the Winter Soldier and there's not enough money in the budget to wipe her from scratch."  
  
Rumlow nodded thoughtfully.  He respected Pierce more than most of these other asswipes and he needed to learn the ropes if he wanted to keep rising in the ranks.  One day he'd wear a suit and not a flak jacket to work.  "So why not kill her?"  
  
"She's enhanced and the scientists want her for the breeding program they're trying on the Captain," Pierce said  
  
Rumlow snorted.  "They're trying a lot of shit on the Captain, how long do you think he'll last?"  
  
"He's still healing, so as long as the drugs keep him down, they'll run their tests.  Few months before we have to worry about him being mobile," Pierce said with a slow smile.  
  
Rumlow's learned a lot about Pierce.  "Kind of makes you wish the paralytic drugs would let him feel it when they cut him open."  
  
Pierce nodded and clapped him on the back.  "Having him conscious but trapped in his own body is pretty good, too, Agent."  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
She decided her name would be Natasha.  Romanov, like the lost princess she thought she'd whispered with imaginary sisters about in the orphanage.  No, the lab.  
  
Not this lab.  This lab was different - different country, different motives, different science - but it was similar in all the wrong ways.  
  
Different science meant different drugs and these were some seriously different drugs.  
  
Natasha was different.  She wasn't sure why at first.  Was it the place that was making her slow?  Was it the drugs?  It had to be the drugs.  
  
She'd always been different - a weapon - her country's tool.  
  
She was a specimen here.  That was it.  The scientists weren't handlers.  They weren't puppeteers to give instructions.  They were here to maintain the variables of an experiment.  
  
Natasha.  She was Natasha.  Natasha was a test subject.  
  
It could be worse, she figured.  
  
Or not.  
  
Definitely not for the man on the bed across the room.  
  
She knew she had lost some time but she'd watched the scientists cut and drain and shock the man for what felt like forever.  She didn't remember them doing as much to her, at least she didn't remember any pain like the orphanage.  The other lab.  
  
She was different though. She didn't think the scientists knew just how much. She had things in common with the man.  Sometimes he looked like a scarecrow but his stitches mended themselves.  Like she did, only faster.  
  
He was becoming immune to the drugs.  Like she was - only *slower*.  She was coming out of their numbness cocktail.  The scientists turned the dial up on the man's regularly.  She couldn't see the buttons on her machines but she knew  
  
She was hooked up to machines.  
  
Natasha was a test subject.  Sure.  She remembered.  
  
She was a test subject.  But she could almost think now and eventually, she'd be able to move.  Sure.  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
Pierce groaned when he saw the newest request from the genetics lab.  At first he thought finding Captain America would be a giant coup for HYDRA, their ultimate triumph.  
  
But it turned out to be his own personal budgetary hellhole.  He was going to burn forever in a bonfire of invoices.  
  
"Boss?"  
  
God, that little suck-up Rumlow.  He followed orders like a well-trained attack dog but he asked idiotic questions like a fluffy pup.  
  
"Sorry, Mr. Pierce, I didn't know if you saw that they're calling the team to reanimate the Asset," Rumlow said.  
  
"I just received the notification.  It seems the Captain is recovering from the sedation faster than expected.  The Asset is the only guard strong enough to restrain him if he comes out of it."  
  
Rumlow relaxed minutely.  "Of course, sir."  
  
Pierce rolled his eyes.  Like Rumlow was ever on the list of qualified assassins.  Even the white-hat side of SHIELD had agents more skilled than Rumlow in a pinch.  
  
"I need you running a Strike Team with that Barton punk, he's been sniffing around about the redhead," Pierce said.  
  
"You don't want me on the Asset's support?"  
  
Pierce narrowed his eyes at the Agent.  "I have many more qualified agents working with the Asset.  You have your orders."  Rumlow nodded and marched out of the room.  
  
PissAnt.  
  
He turned his attention back to the briefing and mentally marked up how many budgets he'd have to cut if the Asset took more than two wipes this time.  It had been a while since he'd defrosted.  
  
Not even Captain America was worth this much red tape.  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
She had collected six scalpels, four sets of scissors (all disassembled into blades that doubled as brass knuckles), eight syringes of adrenaline, fifteen credit cards in different names and four pass-cards for different levels of this hellhole.  
  
She would have to make her move soon.  She didn't blink when the techs were in the room, remaining completely still and timing her snatches when she knew the rotating camera angles were blocked.  
  
The Red Room's training made it easy for her to kill someone, but it made it really hard for someone to kill her.  
  
She had to make her move soon.  She had more monitors on her side of the room than the Captain.  Monitors with two sets of vitals on display.  
  
The Captain.  There was no mistaking who the man was now that the blurry weeks had become clear months of planning.  
  
Agent Barton, the poor bastard, promised that SHIELD would be the only place where she could wash some of the blood off her hands by doing good.  By protecting the world from the people that made her a killer.  But SHIELD wasn't any better than the Red Room.  
  
SHIELD was worse.  The Red Room made her a monster, but SHIELD was making her breed them.  
  
SHIELD was her new mission.  Bringing down these sadistic fuckers would be her redemption.  
  
Natasha never wanted to be a mother, but she would never let them have the kid.  
  
She would kill everyone in this building if they tried to fuck with her spawn.  
  
If her stomach had a heartbeat, that meant it was too late to stop it from happening.  But if she could still keep the Captain in her sight over her stomach, then it meant she still had time to get the fuck out of this place while she was still capable of seeing her feet.  
  
If she could keep the Captain in her sightline, then she could believe she wasn't alone.  
  
Morse code was a rudimentary lesson, one of the first she'd learned.  
  
She didn't blink when the techs were in the room, but the Captain's fluttered eyelashes always drew a silent breath of relief from her once they were gone.  
  
She wasn't alone and he wasn't dead and they were both in this together.  The monster swelling inside her guts was his kid, too.  
  
He'd been gone a long time and she didn't know Captain America's history apart from that he was the embodiment of everything she was trained to hate.  He wasn't stupid - he was smart enough to catch her attention and communicate with her only with his eyes - but he was very confused.  
  
He was better now.  He still asked a lot of questions but she could deal with questions over the vast moments of stillness that followed his regular dose changes.  
  
She had to make her move soon.  She had to time it.  She had to make sure it was timed before they increased the Captain's dose; it had to be midway through the middle shift when he was most lucid.  She would be strong from the cocktail they gave her when they were monitoring the spawn's brain and cardiac function and needed her body as natural as they could make it without letting her think.  
  
She hadn't spent weeks here pretending to be paralyzed and drooling on herself to fuck up her chance to get out.  She may have been stripped raw by her sins when Barton found her, but she wouldn't let these bastards take what little heart she'd managed to find.  
  
She had to do it soon.    
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
"The room's sanitized, you can't just stick him in there - we barely have room for our equipment as it is!"  
  
Pierce sighed.  "It's not my call, Shelly."  
  
"Sherry."  
  
"Of course," he continued.  "Your supervisor requested, or better, demanded, that we assign our very skilled and expensive Asset to protect your experiment.  You can take up your grievances with him.  If you need help moving the equipment, he's pretty good at heavy lifting.  Moved both my sons into their first houses single-handedly."  Heh.  Too true.  
  
Shelly blinked at him.  The Asset didn't blink but his eyes were dark with his rapt attention to the man who held his orders.  
  
Oh yeah, Pierce still had to deal with the orders.  They'd streamlined the Asset's start-up protocol since they used him for shorter missions and didn't want to have to worry about giving him long-term instructions.  Whenever the Asset problem-solved for himself, he was too clever for anyone's comfort level.  
  
"This is a no-kill mission, Asset.  We have prisoners that we need to keep alive but incapacitated.  They're sedated for our safety, they are not to be killed but they must be confined to the 'sanitized' room," Pierce said.  "Sally - "  
  
"Sherry."  
  
"Of course, Shelly, will tell you what else you need to know and your meals will be delivered to your post, you are to stay with the prisoners at all times," Pierce said.  The Asset nodded dully and turned his static attention to the scientist.  
  
He was late for another meeting but at least he'd gotten the Asset activated and on duty.  Time to get back to shaking hands and hailing Hydra.  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
"All right, can you talk?"  
  
She recognized the head scientist when the door opened, but it was off schedule.  She didn't react, she knew better.    
  
"If it is necessary," a new voice, or an old voice perhaps, replied.  
  
She knew that voice, but this time there was no Russian accent, it was plain American with no way to discern what part of America from his mild intonation.  
  
The Winter Soldier.  The man, or machine of a man, that had trained her in hand to hand and many other combat skills she'd used to steal lives for the Red Room.  
  
HYDRA had the Winter Soldier.  Shit.  
  
"Okay then," the scientist said.  "This is the one you are primarily concerned with, the female does not have the same kind of super-strength like the male.  They're both heavily sedated..."  
  
"Their eyes are open," the Soldier interrupted.  
  
"Immobilized would be a better word than sedated, I suppose, but it is the safest way to restrain them while we run our tests.  You can see that their life signs are monitored by these machines.  If the male's heart rate rises above this line, call for us right away.  We don't have sound turned on inside the room, so you can hit that emergency button there, by the door, and we'll come down.  They aren't really capable of talking to each other or plotting escape..."  
  
"She is with child."  
  
She would have snorted at his powers of observation if she wasn't still an immobilized vessel for a test spawn.  
  
"She won't remember anything once we finish the experiment, but if the results are good, we'll use her for a second trial.  None of that is your concern, but if her monitors show any change, simply call with the button.  We don't expect any difficulty no matter what my dumb boss says, we've got the medication details calibrated perfectly.  His cryo tube should be off backorder by the time his metabolism burns through the highest dosage."  
  
She wanted to vomit.  She was going to kill everyone in this place.  
  
"There's a bathroom through that door and you'll be allowed a shower as needed.  The room must stay as sterile as possible to get us the most valid results.  Got it?"  
  
The Soldier must have nodded or given nonverbal understanding because the scientist's heels clicked several steps before the door closed and the familiar beeping of the lock sounded.  
  
The room was silent apart from the medical equipment so she slowly opened her eyes and saw the Winter Soldier standing beside the Captain's bed staring down at him.  
  
The Captain was staring back.  
  
"I know you.  Why do I know you?"  
  
She wanted to know the answer to that, too.  The Captain blinked and she processed his words even if they weren't for her.  _*You were my best friend.  Bucky.*_  
  
The Soldier visibly flinched.  Or course he'd know Morse code, but how would he know that was The Captain was communicating?  
  
* _Please.  Kill me or let me go so I can kill them.  Please.  Help me.  Help us._ *  
  
The Soldier stared at The Captain.  Natasha had a flicker of hope.  
  
She knew the Soldier was capable of independent thought and she knew he was capable of empathy because she'd spent many months with his patient and reasonably kind instruction as a child.  
  
If The Captain could get the Soldier on their side, even if only for a moment, they might actually have a chance.  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
The Soldier sat by her when the techs came in for The Captain's daily bloodletting.  His metal hand slowly curled into a fist when the first of them pulled out a syringe.  
  
She blinked until he turned his gaze to her.  * _They take samples every day.  They only cut him when they need fresh tissue from his organs_.*  
  
His pupils shrank to pinpoints.  He blinked.  * _No.  Not Steve._ *  
  
_Steve_.  Not The Captain or The Male Subject.  _Steve_.  
  
* _He was lost.  Many years.  This is what they do to people when they are found.  He is not from our time.*_  
  
_*I know him.  This is wrong.  This mission is not mine.*_  
  
_*This mission is yours.  Your handler is not the one with your orders.  You already know your mission._ *  
  
The Soldier stared at her.  The first vial filled with blood before the tech motioned for a second one.  
  
* _You are not a mindless drone.  You are a man and you know The Captain.  You know me.*_  
  
_*Natalia._ *  
  
She didn't expect him to remember her name.  * _I am Natasha now.  I am Natasha because I choose to have a name.  I choose to stop killing without cause.  I am not a mindless drone because I choose to have a mind and purpose of my own.*_  
  
_*You are a breeder.  You were not meant to be bred.*_  
  
_*I did not choose this.  I was free.  Then I was found like The Captain.*_  
  
Another vial.  The Soldier looked away from her and locked his eyes on the clustered group of scientists chattering blandly as they worked on their subject.  
  
* _Free.  I have never been free.  I am useless without a mission.*_  
  
_*Free men make their own missions.  You could be free.*_  
  
_*He should be free.  You should be free.*_  
  
Progress.  * _This child should be free.  I do not want it born in chains or locked in a box.  I am no mother but I am more than a vessel.  I have killed enough children.*_  
  
The Soldier nodded minutely but remained motionless for the remainder of the tech's visit.  He never unclenched his fist.  
  
* _He will be slow from the medication,_ * she warned when the red light of the lock flashed on their exit.  
  
The Soldier locked eyes with her.  * _Mission plan.*_  
  
**Shit**.  * _Freedom_.*  
  
* _Look away from the cameras.  Verbal communication will expedite planning.*_  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
"Six hours.  Mark."  
  
"Mark."  
  
"Mark.  It's a Sunday, the second shift will start later."  
  
For a man locked inside his body for seven months, 12 days and 4 hours; Steve had impressive intel.  
  
He rarely was allowed to call people by their names, or address them at all outside of orders - but Steve was - he knew him.  Steve was his mission.  Steve and Natalia and Spawn.  
  
"How do you feel, Steve?" Natalia asked.  
  
"I feel, and that's what matters."  
  
He had switched the liquids in the IV bags on his scheduled bathroom and meal breaks so the medications keeping the 'subjects' incapacitated were replaced with stimulants.  He'd stolen a phone from one of the scientists and researched to make sure Steve and Natalia and Spawn would be capable of mobility.  
  
"The loop on the security cameras will start in fifteen minutes," he said.  "Remain inanimate until I receive the alert."  
  
"Run through the plan again."  
  
"We know the plan," Natalia responded.  No.  She was Natasha now.  She was not the cold girl he'd help shape into a killer, she was softer now.  Warmer.  
  
"I have been paralyzed in this room for months, and frozen for years before that - I won't apologize for wanting a smooth escape," Steve said.  He could see how hard it was for Steve not to twitch with the feeling returning to his body.  
  
He had described the building's layout and Steve had an understanding of at least three possible escape routes if they were separated.  
  
"Lodgings and disguises have been arranged for our immediate exit.  I purchased clothing and supplies electronically to be delivered to a hotel and have been notified that the concierge has received them.  You will have ten minutes to assess your physical state and combat capability and ten minutes to plan accordingly.  We will exit into the hallway, I will lead and Steve will bring up the rear to ensure proper coverage for Natasha and Spawn."  
  
"Her name will not be Spawn," Steve said.  
  
"How do you know it's a girl?"  
  
"His mother was a midwife," he heard himself say.  He shouldn't know that but he did.  
  
There was a lingering pause.  Natasha finally spoke.  "That could be useful in about four months or so."  
  
"There will be at least six staff in the medical hub, none with proper training.  Pauline has self-defense training and a rape whistle from the YMCA in her locker.  We will remove them from our path and continue to the staff locker room and gather clothing and keys.  We will proceed to the parking lot and gain access to Reagan Brooks' SUV and exit onto Harris Street via the employee exit gate."  
  
"Cameras," Steve prompted.  
  
"The corner cameras are operational but the ones mounted above the doors are unplugged.  We will have thirty-four minutes to navigate to the locker room before the security loop will pause for replay.  There will be no record of us on camera replays during the hour and twenty-eight minutes of recording," he recited.  
  
"Both of you are amazing.  If we get out of this alive, I will be in your eternal debts," Steve said.  
  
"If we get out of this alive, I will consider all debts paid," Natasha said.  
  
"Friends.  We're doing this as a team," Steve said.  
  
"Steve and Natasha and Spawn," he stated.  
  
"And James.  We're all getting out of this alive," Natasha said after a beat.  
  
"Her name is not Spawn," Steve said.  
  
"If we're not dead in the next twelve hours, the team can discuss," Natasha replied.  Her tone sounded different and when he looked at her, he realized she was smiling.  He didn't know if he had the capacity to smile but something about this mission made him hope that he could find out.  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
People might consider it strange that she marked The Captain up as one of her closest friends, but after months of silent communication and Morse code chatter; she thought she knew him pretty well.  She respected the fuck out of him even before she heard his actual voice.  
  
She'd told him her history.  The kills on her conscience.  She told him about her redacted memories and lack of autonomy from her handlers.  Her stories had influenced his understanding of the Winter Soldier.  
  
His stories influenced her understanding of Bucky.  He had blinked wholesome tales of his heroic best friend and then gritty, bloody tales of their war.  The Winter Soldier was a nightmare but Bucky Barnes was a legend.  The fact that they were the same man was unbelievable and considering the past 28 years of her life, that was saying a lot.  
  
The Winter Soldier had enough of Bucky left after all these years that The Captain's fluttering eyelashes and the sight of him being hurt brought enough of him to the surface to earn the assassin's blind but conscious loyalty.  
  
The Captain's genuine belief and acceptance of her blinked words and his utter trust in her and the admittedly confused assassin was going to get them out of this fucking place.    
  
Escape was their primary - their only - mission.  Vengeance and justice and all that shit had to wait until they were free.  
  
And Spawn.  There was that, too.  
  
The Captain had made it clear, before James came into the plot, that he wanted them to protect the child at any cost.  She felt the same and they had made the bond that she hoped would last outside of this hell.  She trusted Barton and it had landed her here but she trusted The Captain and the child would give her an even more important part to play in finding her own justice.  
  
James was smart.  Whatever stimulants he'd used to replace the sedatives had her itching to move and she and Steve were both lucky their own versions of the super-serum kept their muscles from atrophying after so much time bedridden.  
  
Steve was shaky on his feet initially and James made truncated movements toward him, still too conditioned to know the proper way to help.  She knew how it felt to finally shake free of mental programming and left him to it, working her own focus as she stretched and twisted to get blood flowing through her extremities.  She wondered who James would be once he was stripped to his core like she'd become.  
  
"They put trackers under my skin, I don't understand the future science but I'm pretty sure we should cut them out now so they'll heal before we leave the room," Steve said.  James visibly hesitated but pulled a knife.  
  
Steve motioned for her to come closer and when she was within his reach, he curled his fingers and brushed her cheek with his knuckles.  He lightly placed his palm over her belly bump and smiled.  "It's very nice to meet you in person, Natasha Romanov."  
  
"And you, Steven Rogers," she said.  
  
James glanced between them and then down at the knife.  Steve turned to him and smiled, bright with optimism that none of them deserved.  "Bucky or James?  Which do you prefer?"  
  
"James.  But.  You can call me Bucky if you like," he replied after a long moment.  
  
Steve nodded.  "Good.  I'll call you James around other people, but I'll still call you Bucky sometimes, too.  Can I see your knife?"  
  
"I don't want you to be hurt," James said, suddenly alarmed.  
  
"Don't worry, anything's better than numbness right now and I really don't want them finding us because we forgot something."  He held out his hand and James placed the knife in his palm.  
  
"Butterfly bandage the cuts closed, we don't have time for stitches and he will heal faster," Natasha advised James.  
  
James nodded, calming slightly with a task.  "And you?  Are you well?"  
  
Steve turned away slightly to block James' laser view and slashed into his forearm.  She needed to be a distraction and guided James a few steps away so Steve could use the nearby tweezers from the medical trays to dig out a large microchip.  
  
"Walk me through the stretches, do you remember?" she asked.  
  
James nodded and glanced at Steve who was intent on another slice as blood trickled from his arm wound.  "You were always the fastest learner, Natalia."  The slow, methodical yoga poses seemed to steady him more than her but he wasn't jacked up on stimulants, either.  
  
"Seven minutes down," Steve said.  James snapped back to task and checked his watch and snitched phone before going for the medical kit to patch up Steve.  
  
"Steve.  How much experience do you have..."  
  
"Killing men with my bare hands?  Not as much as you and Bucky but I've done it before and I'll be able to do it today if I can see the sun and use my arms and legs again," Steve said decisively.  "I'll be ready."  
  
James placed two sets of folded scrubs on the gurney.  He shrugged out of his jacket and unlatched his bulletproof vest and held it out to her.  "Protect the spawn until we are out of the compound."  
  
She was touched and accepted it without a word.  He almost smiled and she steeled herself for the task at hand with new faith in her 'teammates'.  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
"Oh wow."  Steve spoke for the first time outside of the lab as he discovered automatic windows.  
  
They'd made their way out of the lab seamlessly and James - he had a name now and he liked it, he was allowed to like things - James wondered why he'd never bothered to try leaving before.  
  
It was better this way, though.  With Steve and Natasha and Spawn.  He would have a team that considered him a part of it instead of following someone else's orders.  
  
They were equal members working toward the same goal.  Mission: Freedom.  They were their own masters.  
  
"Stop playing with the windows, Steve," Natasha said.  
  
"There's no way I'm going to believe this is really my world.  I know 1943 was a long time ago but this - just - wow.  I have so many questions." Steve placed his hands on his lap, fidgeting in the backseat.  
  
"We have time now," Natasha said.  James nodded in agreement and met his eyes in the mirror.  
  
"How?" Steve asked.  
  
"We will teach you how to navigate 21st century life and you will teach us how to be human beings," James said.  
  
Natasha turned to him and smiled with a glimpse of her teeth.  "Well-put, James."  
  
Steve glanced between them.  "Natasha's told me her story.  Can you tell me yours?  She said they froze you between jobs, that you were used by her captors - "  
  
"I do not remember.  Not everything, or much at all most of the time.  I remember you.  Smaller.  I remember Natasha.  Smaller," James said.  "I was created to kill in the name of the greater good.  I do not remember having a name or a purpose of my own.  I am useless without a mission so I am put away until there is need for my skills."  
  
"You - your name is James Buchanan Barnes.  Your mother's name is - was - Winifred and your sisters were Rebecca and Kimberly Barnes," Steve said.  
  
James didn't know that but he filed it away.  "Your mother had blonde hair, like you.  Natasha's mother had black hair.  She was called Seven-Four," he recalled.  
  
"I had no mother," Natasha said in a dark tone.  
  
"Everyone has a mother," Steve said.  
  
"They took you from her.  HYDRA would take Spawn from you, and then she would have no mother," James said.  
  
Natasha crossed her hands over her seat belt.  "No.  It will have a mother."  
  
"Please, don't call - " Steve started.  
  
"Fred.  For James' mother, we will call the child Fred.  If it is a girl, she can be Winifred, and a boy, just Fred," Natasha interrupted.  
  
James considered it.  "If it has a name, it will be human.  Steve and Natasha and Fred."  
  
"And James," Steve added.  
  
"Yes," Natasha said.  
  
"I'm going to need a lot of help.  You two are the only people I trust," Steve said.  
  
"We all need help.  But you said we are a team and that means we help each other," James said.  
  
Natasha smiled again but without the flash of teeth.  
  
James missed it, but he had seen more smiles today than the decades of history past.  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
"Aw hell," Pierce muttered when he got the first of what would become infinite texts and emails regarding the massacred pile of scientists in the genetics wing.  Oh yeah, and the escapees.  
  
He was going to lose his job unless he could blame this on someone else - but losing the Winter Soldier would damn him considering he held the keys to that fucker.  
  
Not to mention the largest heads of HYDRA had already planned to take Captain America on a world tour when the scientists got to the lobotomy level of their testing.  They wanted to flaunt the 'culmination of HYDRA's success' with the super-factory of blood and organ donation.  
  
"Sir?  Is there a problem?" Director Fury asked him across the desk.  
  
Fuck.  This many dead scientists would hit the asshole's radar for sure and he'd have to get a decent explanation for the guy; not to mention the surveillance tapes if the captives and their guard really had escaped.  
  
"An incident's been reported at one of our science labs but I'm sending a team to investigate.  Nothing to worry about."  
  
He tapped a text in all-caps to Rumlow.  * _HANDLE THIS CLUSTERFUCK.  FIND THEM AND KILL THEM.*_  
  
He considered his next text carefully but Sitwell had passed all the loyalty tests over the past few years and had gotten a spot on the 'equal opportunity' roster HYDRA needed for tax credit.  He was good at paperwork and easily eliminated when the scapegoat list came down from his partners.  * _Make this go away._ *  
  
"What kind of incident?  I haven't received any - "  
  
"You're not responsible for the R&D divisions, believe me, you don't want that added to your priorities before you're forced to take it.  They're researching it so the memos will come down once we know the details."  
  
There better not be any details left to share by that point.  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
"Rollins is disgusting."  
  
Clint winced.  "I'm sorry, there weren't any decent guys on the team I could task you with.  Have I told you how you are my bestest friend in the whole world, Thirteen?"  
  
"He's gross.  Good news is that I almost have enough evidence for a justifiable killshot.  Bad news is the evidence."  
  
"Did you find her?" Clint asked.  
  
Thirteen met his eyes with a pronounced line of her mouth.  "This is a powder keg.  SHIELD, its - it's dirty, Barton.  At least part of it, the part that took your friend.  We're not going to be able to handle this on our own."  
  
His gut dropped  "Tell me."  
  
She pushed a folder across the table.  "Most of these are from his phone, there were too many emails for me to risk printing out.  The whole STRIKE team is dirty.  Rollins is Rumlow's lackey but I haven't sniffed out who he works for.  If their 'Boss' is Pierce, then we don't have a chance at taking him down."  
  
Clint opened the file and swallowed down bile at the photos.  "When?  She's been missing six months - when was this taken?"  Natasha.  He was supposed to save her but she's hooked up to tubes and monitors with blank dead eyes.  
  
"Recently.  Those photos are the ones given to the team currently looking for her and two others.  She either escaped or was taken.  She's - " Thirteen reached over and tapped her midsection.  "She's expecting, four to five months along according to the BOLO."  
  
"You..."  
  
"Turn the page and you'll see the details on her donor," Thirteen said with a tight note in her voice.  
  
"Is that - Captain America?" Clint hissed.  He had the same dead eyes as Natasha.  
  
"They've kept him down there for months, longer than they've had your girl.  Harvesting him...six different executives have part of his liver, it grows back and they take it - six times, Clint.  These are the people we work for," she whispered.  "They used a paralytic cocktail of drugs to keep them immobilized and - God, the whole thing makes me sick."  
  
"Who's the third BOLO?" Clint asked, turning the page before he had to think about breeding or harvesting before he got through the rest.  
  
"Apparently, the legendary Winter Soldier isn't a high priority on SHIELD's watchlist because he lives in a freezer in their basement," Thirteen said.  
  
Clint studied the picture of the man behind the frosted window in the photo.  "That looks like...what's his name?"  
  
"Asset.  He doesn't have a name."  
  
"He looks like Bucky Barnes."  Clint glanced up at her confused look.  "Coulson has a whole memorabilia room for the Howling Commandos."  
  
Thirteen yanked the picture back.  "What the hell."  
  
The next picture in the folder was a bloody scene with a whole lot of bodies.  "This how they got out?"  
  
"As far as I can tell, it went down a couple of days ago.  One of the dead techs is missing a car and clothes were missing from the staff locker rooms.  They killed their captors and simply walked out."  
  
"So we've got an assassin that's been out of mind-controlled Soviet control for less than a year, a man that's been dead 70 years and an assassin that's been frozen in the basement for fuck knows how long - all on the run together."  
  
"It could be a great sitcom or a Dateline documentary waiting to happen," Thirteen muttered.  
  
"We have to find them before Rollins' people do," Clint said.  
  
Thirteen nodded.  "Yes."  
  
"We need help," Clint said.  
  
She nodded again.  "Who do you trust?"  
  
"You," he replied immediately.  
  
"Exactly.  Our list is too short," she sighed.  
  
"Maybe Coulson.  And your aunt trusted Fury enough to promote him when she retired," Clint said.  
  
"She signed off on Pierce, too," Thirteen admitted.  
  
"But she *knew* Fury, worked with him, was it the same with Pierce?" Clint countered.  
  
"Let's hold off until we know more, but go with Coulson when we do.  He'll at least have more insight into administrative and hiring procedures, might make it easier to pick out the rats," she said.  She glanced down at the picture of the Winter Soldier again and then slid it back into the folder.  "I'd like to know if he agrees with you about that one."  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
"Oh, it's _perfect_ , don't you think it's perfect, Honey?" Natasha smiled brightly at Steve, wrapping her hands around his bicep and looking up at him eagerly.  
  
Steve chewed his lip.  "I'm not sure it's right for us, there's a lot of traffic outside, it might wake the baby."  
  
Margie, the 75% silicone real estate agent, shook her head without dislodging her perfect botoxed smile.  "Oh no, all the rooms are soundproofed, the last owner's son was a drummer."  Natasha noted that she didn't add that the last owners used the house for pornographic photo shoots.  
  
"The park down the street was nice, and the Starbucks is within biking distance," Steve said.  He was playing the part of domesticated newlywed perfectly after watching endless YouTube instructional videos for actors.  
  
James was still being tasked with recon and cover maintenance because he couldn't keep up polite human interaction outside of their 'team' just yet.  
  
"You could set up your art studio in the sunroom so you have natural light," she said to Steve.  
  
"Oh, you're an artist?  You'll love it here, there are lots of galleries that feature local work in the shopping district," Margie cooed.  
  
"With a little work, I think we could sort out the commute if you're really sure," Steve said to her.  "The ensuite downstairs is perfect for your brother."  They needed the basement apartment for any 'guests' they needed to 'invite' over for questioning.  
  
"I think it's the perfect place to raise our bundle of joy," she said, using the phrase they'd agreed on for confirmation.  
  
Their identities were solid and James had vetted the neighborhood thoroughly.  The fence and gated driveway were part of the grounds and their neighbors were too rich and shady on their own to bother with them being rich and shady, too.  
  
"How soon will it be move-in ready?" Steve asked Margie.  
  
"Oh, sure, living out of a hotel in your condition must be such a trial," Margie said to her with faux sweetness.  "If the finances are in order, we can have it filed and notarized by the end of the week."  
  
"We have a doctor's appointment on Monday, so we'd like to get the furniture and our things out of storage by the weekend," Steve said, putting his arm around her shoulders.  
  
She fluttered her eyelashes at him.  
  
"We can add a few more thousand to the check if we can call the moving company by Thursday," Steve said, giving her an indulgent smile.  "Margie, who should my lawyer contact to settle the sale?"  
  
After a few texts to James and another thirty minutes of small talk with Margie - but she did learn where the best places were to get a spray tan and a mani-pedi - they had a meeting for the next day to sign paperwork and pick up the lease.  
  
James had their drinks waiting when they reached Starbucks in their sensible, legally purchased SUV.  Steve had a sweet tooth to rival a five-year old at Halloween.  Apparently Fred shared that with her father and forced Natasha to switch drinks with him immediately.  
  
"I got decaffeinated in case that happened," James replied before Steve could protest the theft of his caffeine.  
  
"Always a step ahead, James," Steve smiled, raising his new drink for a mimicked toast.  
  
James quirked his lips in the almost-smile they'd gotten used to seeing on him.  The Winter Soldier was coming out of his freeze and she liked the man he was becoming without his puppeteers.  
  
"I have a lead on our next step," James said, meeting both their eyes and pulling his tablet from its case.  
  
"Safehouse, identities, transportation and finances secured," Natasha thought aloud.  "What's next?"  Steve liked to go over plans until they couldn't think about anything else but - chocolate.  Chocolate coffee required immediate attention.  
  
"Medical care," James said.  
  
Steve leaned forward.  "Our research only turned up a couple of doctors with the knowledge base to help us."  
  
James nodded.  "Yes, and only one that isn't employed by the people we are eventually going to destroy.  He's being detained by the US Army."  
  
"Banner?  I thought he was missing," Steve said.  
  
For the past two weeks as they crossed the country to settle, temporarily for the moment, in California; they'd gone through all of HYDRA and SHIELD's files thanks to James' knowledge of Pierce's passwords.  James may have spotty memories from his older decades in service, but SHIELD's 'streamlined' brainwashing processes had left clear memories of his looser-defined missions like standing guard when Pierce sorted through his emails.  James spent a lot of time simply 'looking scary' while Pierce went to high-ranking meetings.  
  
They knew too much dirt on too many people and organizations to even start making a kill-list.  
  
Fred was the only reason they weren't gathering weapons of mass destruction for the war they were going to bring down on HYDRA.  
  
"SHIELD caught him in India a few weeks ago and dosed him with a variation of that stuff they gave to you two," James said.  "They turned him over to the Army since they had a working test subject already locked down."  
  
"He did show up as the doctor with the most knowledge of the serum," Steve said.  "But there's the whole Hulk part to consider."  
  
"He only changes when he gets angry.  If they're keeping him the way they were keeping you, then you can flutter your eyelashes and tell stories until he trusts you enough to leave with you," Natasha said.  
  
"Oh, _sweetheart_ , you say the nicest things," Steve said in his newlywed drawl, kissing her cheek dramatically.  
  
"He's getting better at that," James remarked.  
  
"All the reports say he was a good doctor trying to do good things when the accident happened.  They'll turn him into a weapon by any means necessary.  If we can get him out without him going nuclear, then I think he'd be our top choice to check Fred's development," Natasha said.  
  
"Okay then," Steve said easily.  "We have a new step to work on for the mission."  
  
James was visibly pleased every time Steve agreed with his ideas.  She couldn't deny she felt the same warmth when her ideas were considered.  They were in control of their own lives but since they were a team, they had to consider the effect of their choices on their teammates.  
  
"So, tonight we research security and supplies for a kidnapping.  And furniture," Natasha said.  
  
"I want one of those smooshy couches," Steve said.  
  
Natasha glanced at him, fond.  "No beanbag chairs, honey, it'll ruin the feng shui."  
  
"I don't know what that is, but I don't think I want it around Fred," Steve replied.  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
Bruce closed his eyes when the beep sounded on the door lock.  He didn't like seeing the faces watching him like an insect in a glass jar.  
  
_"I wasn't supposed to start until next week, but since Spencer has mono, they let me start training sooner."_  
  
_"God, he probably infected the entire shift, but welcome anyway.  Did they explain the prisoner's special circumstances?"_  
  
_"They said I didn't need to know.  Those are some pretty serious restraints, though."_ New guy had no idea.  
  
_"Yeah, he's paralyzed and harmless as long as his meds are kept on full dosage.  Change out the bags, check all the ports and since you're the trainee, you get to give the spongebath in a couple of hours."_  
  
_"Can't wait_ ," new guy said flatly.    
  
He heard them moving around the bed and while he couldn't feel anything, his hearing muted in his left ear as something was pushed inside.  Oh God, they were going to start with the mental conditioning.  
  
_"Check check."_   It was a female voice he didn't recognize - without any discernable accent or familiarity.  " _Dr. Banner, if you can hear me, open your eyes.  I'll explain everything but we need to know you're cognizant before I waste the energy.  My fake brother-in-law is trying to convince me to buy waterbeds for everyone."_  
  
What?  
  
Bruce opened his eyes more out of confusion than obedience.  A bearded man with bright blue eyes smiled at him.  And winked before returning his attention to checking his medical monitors.  
  
_"Good.  Well, not at the moment, but soon.  My name's Natasha and four weeks ago, I was under the influence of the same variant of drug they're using on you.  Your new nurse, who is going to be terrified to actually give you a spongebath, is Steve Rogers.  And he's exactly who you think he is which is why they know the drug will work on you.  We need your help."_  
  
Bruce wasn't actually in a condition to help anyone at the moment but he was definitely curious now.  Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to come up with this.  
  
" _He's going to switch out your IV bags and start weaning the paralytic agents from your IVs.  You'll slowly regain use of your body and by the time the spongebath deadline comes around, you'll be mobile and we'll have control of the cameras.  Try and stay still until then so we don't have to go off-plan.  Steve doesn't like going off-plan."_  
  
This had to be a trap.  
  
" _I know this is unbelievable right now, but I hope if I talk at you a couple of hours that you'll believe that we mean you no harm.  We're getting you out even if you turn green and stomp that place into bits; but we'd prefer if you'll walk out with Steve and make sure he doesn't crash the SUV on the way home.  I have a version of the serum in my blood like Steve's, like yours.  I was captured by SHIELD.  I am carrying Steve's child even if we never touched until we escaped.  We escaped.  We are free.  We need a doctor to make sure this baby doesn't have tentacles."_  
  
If this woman was real, Bruce really wanted to meet her.  
  
" _I hope you'll help us.  Steve and I had to communicate through blinks so talking's much easier.  It's actually possible to get eyelid cramps from blinking too much, but it was worth it in the long run because we got out.  It took a lot of luck, but if Steve asks, call it a miracle so he won't make us go to Mass again."_  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
"Um. The cameras are off if you want to get up  now. I figure you can wash yourself now that you can move. We'll need to wait a few more minutes before the gas knocks out the last of the soldiers in this wing," Steve said.  
  
"You gassed them?" Dr. Banner asked, sitting up slowly and checking his fingers and joints methodically.  This was insane.  
  
"Non-lethal, killing isn't part of this mission. Rescue is my primary objective but if you need to kill some people, go ahead but we are on a schedule."  
  
Dr. Banner tilted his head as the voice in his head snickered. "Natasha says you take the schedule seriously so I'm good on the non-lethal approach."  
  
"We were down longer and as James puts it - "jacked up" on stimulants when we left SHIELD's lab but our research said your alter ego might not like that so you'll be slow for a couple of days. We do yoga, the stretching helps," Steve said.  
  
"Let's get out of here before we start talking yoga," Bruce said. These people were certifiable and Bruce was more than happy to join in on their crazy if it got him out.  
  
Steve's watch beeped and he smiled. "Sure. We have an apartment ready for you and hopefully beanbag chairs for when you come upstairs.  Here are some clothes, stay here a moment," Steve said, passing him a bag before stepping out of the room.  
  
Bruce changed quickly, surprised they were the right size down to the shoes.  Steve returned with one of the unconscious soldiers and dropped him on the bed.  He passed Bruce the security badges and ID and made quick work of undressing and redressing him in Bruce's abandoned scrubs.  
  
"Five minutes to go.  It's shift change in the kitchens so we're going to take the back stairs and walk out like we just got off shift," Steve said.  "Sound good?"  
  
Bruce nodded and decided not to ask questions from the man that had returned control of his body to him.  
  
"Good.  We just have to act like we're supposed to be here and it's a normal day."  
  
"Sure," Bruce said, mimicking Steve's easy-going mood.  He earned another blinding smile and followed the crazy into the hallway, across a maze of unconscious bodies, down an empty stairwell and into a bustling employee parking lot.  
  
He was confident of the plan until Steve stopped outside of the SUV and frowned.  
  
"What?" Bruce asked, panic rising under his skin.  Natasha spoke in his ear.  "Take the keys and unlock the truck.  He has a thing with key fobs."  Bruce reached over, took the keychain and unlocked the truck before passing them back.  
  
"Thank you.  Let's go," Steve said.  
  
Bruce huffed out a nervous laugh and climbed into the passenger side.  He felt steady enough to take out the earbud when the engine was running.  
  
"Seatbelts, mirrors, headlights, go," Steve muttered to himself.  "I feel like an airplane pilot driving these new cars."  
  
"The voice in my ear said you're Captain America," Bruce said.  
  
"SHIELD found me in the Arctic and decided to defrost me and use me for parts.  I'm not a big fan of our government right now.  Communists found Bucky, turned him into a weapon and Natasha, she was born in a Russian lab and raised as a weapon.  So we're not really big on labels.  Assassin, World War Two Propaganda Figurehead, Hulk, we don't need to talk about stuff like that.  I'm Steve, you're Bruce and we're just people trying to get by."  
  
"Oh.  Wait.  Bucky, like, Bucky Barnes?"  Bruce was intrigued - if these guys were free agents, then he might really be able to escape and go back into hiding.  He owed them something before he took off.  
  
Steve nodded but didn't take his eyes off the road as they followed the line of cars leaving the base.  "He goes by James, he's not completely himself yet.  He never will be again, but that's okay because James is on our side.  He knows a lot of SHIELD's secrets so now we do, too - that's how we found you.  You know all about the serum and you're not linked up to any government organizations that want to cut us open."  
  
"Definitely not," he shivered.  
  
"And you're a doctor," Steve said, relaxing when they pulled onto the highway but still focusing completely on the road.  There was something comforting about the rapt attention he gave driving without losing the easy tone of conversation.  "Natasha was drugged and even though she and I both have versions of the serum, we want to make sure Fred, the baby, is all right."  Steve hesitated.  "I've never even had sex with a woman and now there's a baby that I'm half-responsible for so I want to make sure I do absolutely everything to make sure they're both okay.  She saved my life, I would never have made it out of SHIELD's lab without her and James."  
  
"I'll help you as much as I can," Bruce said, meaning it despite all his common sense alarms going off.  
  
"The world's changed," Steve said quietly.  "The only friends I have in this world are assassins and everyone else I've spent time with have been evil people who think I'm a research project.  I really hope you turn out to be a nice guy."  
  
"I started researching the serum for its healing properties, not combat capabilities.  Not for rage-monster reasons," Bruce said.  
  
"I believe you.  That's why we broke you out, we believe you're a nice guy with a bad deal," Steve said genuinely.  "We can't trust anyone, and the way we figure, you don't have a long list of friends either; but we're all hiding from the same assholes so we might as well help each other.  We have a place for you to live, fake ID's and great disguise choices since Bucky crashed cosmetology classes at the community college.  We can help each other but we're still free to make the choices that are right for ourselves, so if you need to leave..."  
  
"I'm going to have a lot more questions but for right now, I am happy to accept your offer of shelter and hopefully solid food," Bruce interrupted.  
  
"Oh yeah, James crashed a cooking class, too, and he's making good use of the fancy kitchen.  There are two sinks in there, it's crazy," Steve said.  
  
Bruce looked at Steve.  "Thank you.  For getting me out."  
  
"You can thank me by not turning into the Hulk around Fred and my friends," Steve smiled.  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
"You have to be shitting me - who authorized - no, there's no possible reason  - no, Sir, sorry, Sir.  All of my men are on the hunt for the prisoners we already lost, why the hell would I send them to get another one when we haven't found the ones we already had?"  
  
Pierce missed the days when he could slam down the phone in rage - the finger swipe was much less cathartic.  
  
"Should I even ask what's happening?" Rumlow asked from the door.  
  
He needed to schedule in the scumbag's execution date, but he still needed lackeys considering the newest clusterfuck.  "Someone kidnapped the Hulk out of Army custody and left SHIELD's fingerprints all over it."  
  
"What?  Where was he?  My guys haven't gone anywhere near a military bases, we've been chasing leads down as soon as we find them," Rumlow frowned.  
  
"Get me everything you can on the incident, we need damage control stat.  If the Army comes in here sniffing around, we'll all be looking for new jobs," Pierce growled.  And funeral plots.  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
"Why am I watching this?  This is - I don't want to watch this," Steve said as Bruce appeared in the living room.  
  
"You said you wanted to catch up and this is part of your country's history," Natasha replied.  She gave the shy and suspicious doctor a wave and he sat down beside her on the sectional sofa.  
  
"None of this is real, though, it's all dramatized and it makes me traumatized," Steve replied without looking away from the TV screen.  
  
"Suck it up," James remarked from his post by the window.  "Be glad you weren't there to see it up close."  
  
"James was in Vietnam?" Bruce whispered when he saw the title screen for _Apocalypse Now_.  
  
"James has served America's enemies in almost every war since he fell," Natasha replied.  
  
"I serve no master now.  I don't have to kill unless it's to protect my team," James recited.  He said it a lot but Natasha didn't mind.  Whatever kept him on the sane, loyal side of the fence was okay with her.  
  
"I looked over the records you gave me and made a list of equipment that I'll need to do some testing.  I'd like to see if James is open to a brain scan or two.  I've only been here a couple of days and I can already tell he's improving so I admit I'm curious to see what kind of damage he's recovering from," Bruce said.  
  
"Are you going to cut me?  Shock me?" James asked.  
  
" **No** ," Steve answered before Bruce could reply.  "That's not what he's here for."  
  
"I'm absolutely not going to do that, any of that.  I just want to make sure they didn't do any permanent damage.  I also want to compare your serum to Natasha's.  We have four variations of the serum to study and when it's safe to do an amniocentesis, I'll want to be able to compare them."  
  
"What's an amniocentesis?  Do we have a lesson plan for that?" Steve asked.  
  
Bruce smiled.  "I'll walk you through everything before I do it.  It's a normal test these days where we take fluid from the placenta to check genetic markers and things.  It's a little soon for it now, but it'll give us a lot more to go on."  
  
"Are you sticking around until then?" Natasha asked.  
  
Bruce lowered his eyes.  "Your idea of hiding is a lot more comfortable than mine."  
  
"James is very thorough," Steve said and Natasha noticed James waited until Steve looked away to preen.  "We're glad to have you."  
  
"I - I'm glad to have a chance to breathe.  And people that don't consider me a monster," Bruce said.  
  
"I have more kills on my conscience than you ever will," Natasha said quietly.  
  
"Not your conscience because you weren't in control," Steve chimed in.  "It's in the bylaws."  
  
Bruce raised his eyebrow inquiringly.  "Bylaws?"  
  
"Sometimes we need structure," she replied.  She didn't mind Steve's quirks, or James' but she would be the first to admit that assassins were usually starved for personal interactions.  
  
"Someone should tell me something good about the past forty years.  Something that doesn't make me want to stab myself in the eye," Steve said suddenly.  
  
James hurried over and switched off the TV.  "You don't have to watch the movie."  
  
"It's slightly encouraging that you aren't always a shiny, happy person, Steve," Bruce said, breaking the tension that always fell over them when Steve lost his unflappable patience.  "I could use some air, how about you and I take a walk and I'll tell you all about growing up in the 70's and following the Grateful Dead around the Midwest."  
  
Natasha wanted to hear that story.  
  
"When we get back, we'll have our first lunch of the day and then you all can fill me in on the shady government organization questions I have," Bruce said.  
  
"Don't go outside of the perimeter and keep your phone with you at all times," James said, watching Steve with dark eyes.  He turned to Bruce as he walked out of the room.  "I'll get the equipment ordered for you."  
  
"I can't - sometimes - I can't just hear his voice and not think that - he's telling me to take my phone and we never had a phone, not even in our building - and he's not Bucky, he's James but not all the time and I can't just - I can't do this today," Steve blurted out, his voice dropping to a whisper as his words ran dry.  
  
Bruce stood up and walked over, putting his hand on Steve's trembling wrist.  "Come on, let's walk.  You won't have to talk or pretend or do anything but breathe and walk, yeah?"  
  
"You should see if the chapel's open.  He likes the quiet," Natasha told Bruce as Steve shakily walked through the back door.  
  
"I'll bring him back in one piece," Bruce said, smiling at her with a twinkle in his eye.  
  
She stretched out on the couch and wondered if his eyes twinkled like that for everyone.  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
She held her breath and wondered if today would be the day she finally died in action.  Not that it would count since she was on her own personal investigation; but still.  
  
When she'd accepted Fury's job offer after her last tour of duty in Beirut; she thought she was going to work for the greater good - to protect the world's interests instead of just America's - but something was rotten.  
  
She trusted Fury with her life, but she wasn't sure she trusted the organization that sponsored the badge she carried in her pocket.  
  
The rugged blond with the R-Rated tight shirts turned the corner of the park and she exhaled.  She wanted to be wrong; she needed to be wrong about all of this but the files she'd snitched off Sitwell's hacked laptop, including the files the weasel had snitched himself were undeniable.  
  
SHIELD was infected.  This man was a legendary hero and the people she worked for had tortured him.  Turned him into a lab rat.  
  
She wasn't supposed to feel guilty for doing her job, not anymore.  SHIELD was supposed to be different.  
  
Her task nodded with a polite smile as he jogged within speaking distance.  She smiled back.  "Hi, do you have a moment?"  
  
His eyes were a deeper blue than she'd imagined and she hoped she'd live long enough to tell Coulson about it.  If he wasn't a rat.  "Can I help you?"  
  
"I hope so.  Do you have eyes on you?" she asked in a low voice.  
  
The man's hand twitched for his phone.  
  
"I'd like to talk to you but you won't trust me, but if you have eyes on you, then maybe you'll at least listen," she said.  
  
He searched her face.  
  
"I found a shit-ton of evidence of what was done to you and your friend.  Meaning, I hacked my coworker's laptop and saw his cover-up of all those dead scientists.  They deserved it if the Intel's true," she said, not lowering her gaze.  "I haven't told anyone what I found, I'm following a hunch.  I need to know if I'm working for bastards that do human experimentation."  
  
"What's your name?" the man asked.  
  
"Maria Hill," she said without hesitation.  
  
He carefully pulled out his phone and tapped the touchscreen.  It only took a moment before he returned his attention to her.  "Our intel says you're clean."  
  
"How - "  
  
"You're SHIELD, not HYDRA, unless you're a new recruit," he said.  
  
"What?"  She felt like she'd been shot in the face.  
  
"Huh," Captain America blinked at her.  "You really didn't know."  
  
"Fuck no, are you - what am I saying, they had you pinned down like a butterfly under glass, of course you'd know," Maria muttered half to herself.  "I'm going to turn that place inside out…"  
  
He smiled at her and she barely had time to process how nice he looked before everything went black.  
  
Well, his smile was pretty swoon-worthy.  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
"Shit.  You're - oh **shit**."  
  
James faked a smile and appreciated the flash of fear in the agent's eyes when she recognized him and the array of weapons laid out around him in Bruce's living room.  The ensuite had been meant for prisoners in the first place and Bruce was polite enough to let them borrow it as long as she didn't bleed on his furniture.  
  
"Fuck, I knew this was a bad idea but I didn't think they would have gotten to the Captain…" she muttered, deflating at the sight of the restraints locked around her wrists and ankles in the chair.  
  
"Who do you think I am?" he asked her, careful to use his Russian accent.  
  
"The Winter Soldier.  You're on the most-wanted list of every security organization in the world," she replied as the color returned to her cheeks.  
  
He nodded.  "Who do you think I work for?"  
  
She paused, flicking her gaze over him as she processed the question.  
  
"Had a uniform a lot like the one Steve found in your hotel room," James said after a long moment when she hadn't answered.  
  
She gritted her teeth.  "SHIELD."  
  
"They've had me since the 80's," James said.  
  
"I don't…fuck, this is so much bigger than I thought.  But you - you helped the Captain escape with Barton's spy, didn't you?"  
  
"SHIELD got lazy with the brainwashing.  I'm almost a real person now," James said, smiling again.  She shuddered.  "What are you doing here?  How did you find us?"  
  
"Instagram," she replied.  
  
"The fuck is that?" James replied.  
  
"I ran a facial recognition program and tracked The Captain through photos random people took of him," she said.  "But I guess assassins don't have much use for Twitter and social networking."  
  
"Why are they taking pictures of him?"  
  
Maria blinked at him.  "He's gorgeous and people are shallow.  The lady that sells frozen yogurt at the park is a big fan," she added.  
  
James liked her yogurt, he was disappointed he'd have to kill her.  
  
"I wrote the program I used to track him, and the images were deleted when I made the match.  I'm solo on this.  Wish I wasn't with all this talk of HYDRA," she muttered.  
  
"Solo's safer.  Means we won't have to kill you right away," James replied.  
  
"'We'.  Are they paying you more than those HYDRA bastards?" Maria asked sharply.  "Why do you want Captain Rogers?  What's your play in all this?"  
  
He glanced down at his phone and saw a message flash from upstairs where they were monitoring his session.  * _We can use her intel.  B is ok with it_.*  Bruce was a new variable in their team but he was so paranoid, with good reason, that he was an acceptable addition.  
  
He spent more time with Steve than James was entirely comfortable with, but he'd openly admitted that Steve calmed his nerves and neither James nor Natasha could deny that Steve had a natural soothing effect on them, too.  But for James, having Steve nearby was a balm over a buried nest of memories of better times.  
  
"I used Captain America's shield once.  Caught an energy blast that knocked me off a moving train in the Alps.  Got picked up by some bad people that chopped off my arm and washed out my brain."  He didn't look at her as he continued, busying himself by gathering the weapons.  "I don't remember a lot, they were pretty thorough.  They'd assign me a target, give me a gun and then stick me into a cryo tube until they needed me again.  I knew Natasha as a child, when I was a trainer for the KGB for a bit.  SHIELD bought me in the 80's.  First time I'd woken up with people speaking English over me since 1943."  
  
He turned to her when he was fully armed and Bruce's room was safe from murderous weapons in plain view.  Pacifists were so touchy about weapons.  
  
"Steve remembers me when I was a man, a good man.  Natasha remembers me when I was a monster, but a kind one.  I figure I can find my way back to one of those slots if I'm allowed to think for myself again," James said.  
  
She stared at him.  "Bucky Barnes.  Oh my God.  You slept with my grandmother in 1942."  
  
James stared at her.  
  
"She tells that story every Christmas," Maria added.  He studied the woman more carefully.  
  
"Jeannie," James said, her name popping into his mind.  "Her legs went up to her - "  
  
"That's enough for me, also, don't talk about my Nana like that," Maria said with wide eyes.  
  
"Oh.  Sure," James said.  "So.  We should talk."  
  
"Talk.  Okay.  Let's talk," she replied, glancing at her shackles and then locking him with a glare.  
  
He smiled and she gave him a strange look.  "What?"  
  
"You don't seem like a brainwashed assassin," Maria answered.  
  
"It's a work in progress," James said.  "Bruce says my brain's healing from the damage done over the years.  So.  What do you intend to do with what you've learned?"  
  
She considered his question.  "I'd like to talk to Captain Rogers and Natasha."  
  
"I'm envoy right now.  Talk to me," James countered.  
  
She took a deep breath.  "I won't stand by and let them get away with this.  SHIELD, HYDRA - whoever's pulling the strings - they have to go down.  It'll be a clusterfuck, do you know how many governments bankroll SHIELD?"  
  
"I do.  Pierce took me to all the big parties to show me off," James said.  
  
" _Pierce_?  Jesus fuck," she hissed.  "This - "  
  
"We're going to take them down.  My team," James interrupted her meltdown.  "Steve's team, our team.  We're going to make them pay for what they did to us, and to all the other people they've hurt."  
  
"When I think of all the missions, all the people I thought we were saving - how many of them ended up locked in a lab or a freezer?" Maria murmured.  
  
"We could use your help, and your silence," James said finally.  
  
She glanced up in surprise.  
  
"We've got a lot of Intel but we've also got Fred to think of - Fred's our primary mission right now.  We can't do anything right now but prep.  If you run off telling people what you know, then we'll be exposed too soon," James said.  
  
"Do I want to know who Fred is?" she asked suspiciously.  
  
"When Bruce's medical equipment gets here, we'll find out if Fred's a girl or a boy but either way, Fred will *never* be a labrat," James said darkly.  
  
Horror bloomed on her face.  "No.  Who's Bruce?"  
  
"Dr. Banner.  He's a pacifist, but he's given his word that he's on our team when it comes to our current mission."  
  
Maria obviously knew who Dr. Banner was considering her expression.  "I give you my word that Fred will never be a labrat as long as I'm alive.  Unless he has tentacles."  
  
_*She can come to dinner for sit-rep.  Good work.  Apologize to her Nana.*_  
  
"You're in luck, its Taco Tuesday," he said, moving over to unlatch her restraints.  
  
"How do you know I won't turn on you as soon as you let me go?" Maria asked not moving until he had taken a step back.  
  
"Your military service record gave you a lot of points with Steve, your juvenile arrest record for animal testing protests won Bruce over and your dating history convinced Natasha."  He smirked when she looked at him sharply.  "Six months with a snowboarder that had 'primo ganja' according to your high school diary, then a girl named Brittany who was the bassist in a grunge band, and eight months with a Republican lobbyist before cheating on him with a Wakandian shaman."  
  
"I didn't cheat, we were on a break - and why does that make me trustworthy?"  
  
James shrugged his metal shoulder.  "Judgment.  You follow your heart and you're loyal until they give you a reason not to be."  
  
"What about you?  Why do you trust me?" Maria asked.  
  
He held open the door to the stairs.  "Because I know how much Pierce hates you.  You'd be perfect for HYDRA, they might not even make you a breeder but you're pure enough for a rank; but you're one of Fury's and he's never been able to turn one of Fury's."  
  
She nodded.  "Fair enough.  And I'm not going to be the weak link in your mission.  I'll wait to meet Fred before lighting the first fuse to burn SHIELD to the ground."  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
"Barton."  
  
"Hill."  
  
"Oh.  You got an assignment for me?" Clint didn't work with Maria often but he knew she was close with Coulson.  
  
"Wondered if you wanted to go off the reservation for a bit."  
  
That was interesting.  Hill was more of stickler about rules than Coulson and that said a lot.  "Need a little more than that to go on."  
  
"Bring Thirteen.  Have you told anyone else what you know?"  
  
Shit.  "I have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
"Barton.  This is a big fucking deal and we need to close ranks.  We can't do anything but collect intel for the next 4 months."  
  
That was even more interesting and it took a moment for it to click together.  "You found her?"  
  
"I found them.  Have you told anyone else, Barton?"  
  
"We were going to take it to Phil when we had enough proof," he admitted.  "We're still trying to confirm the major players."  
  
"Don't do anything else.  Meet me at Disneyland in three days, bring Thirteen and for fuck's sake, cover your tracks."  
  
Barton nodded even though he was on the phone.  "Can I ask how you're involved in this?"  
  
"My partner's one of the rats."  Fuck.  Barton *liked* Sitwell.  Who else was going to come crawling out of the walls?  
  
"Is she all right, Maria?  Does she think I'm involved?"  
  
"I wouldn't be inviting you to Disneyland if she thought you were involved.  She's fine, Barton."  
  
The dial tone took his breath, but at least a quarter of it was out of relief.  At least.  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
"Are they always like that?" Maria asked Bruce quietly.  Even though the house was allegedly soundproof and they were outside, she didn't put anything past 'super-hearing'.  
  
Natasha was seated between Steve's legs as he braided her hair with rapt intensity, threading the hair through his fingers delicately.  James, the goddamn Winter Soldier, sat one cushion over watching Steve with the same eerie rapt attention as Steve was giving Natasha's hair.  Natasha's eyes were closed and her face calm.  
  
"They've been through a lot.  Steve's tactile, touch-starved if you like, from the ice and those bastardized drugs," Bruce frowned.  "Natasha craves a kind touch, and James, well, he just likes to know Steve's okay."  
  
"He's a little intense about it, he didn't seem like that earlier," Maria said.  Dr. Banner was a nice guy, but all the reports said it was the other side of him that wasn't so nice.  "What's your medical opinion?"  
  
"The brain's a funny thing and I'm not a neuroscientist," Bruce said.  "From what Natasha and James say, the sight of those assholes hurting Steve snapped decades worth of programming.  If hovering keeps him sane, then we can't fault him from that.  His brain's healing."  He lowered his voice even further.  "Bucky's still in there somewhere, but it's going to take a while for him to patch his head together."  
  
"And the others?" she asked.  
  
"Fred's developing normally and Natasha's healthier than she should be considering she was drugged and immobile for months.  Steve, well, he's the one that worries me," Bruce said.  
  
She waited impatiently for him to continue.  
  
"His physical health is still perfection, and he's putting on a good show; but his head's not completely in the game," Bruce sighed.  "He hates it here.  He doesn't have anything to tether to in this time and, well," he nodded toward the weird tableau inside on the couch, "Bucky's not the same and the mother of his child is a stranger.  Everyone's a stranger."  
  
"He is more upbeat than I expected," Maria admitted.  
  
"Pretty sure that's his default setting in times of intense terror," Bruce replied.  "I get green and homicidal and he gets chipper and smiley."  
  
"There's a use for all of those things.  Maybe not the green part," she said, patting his arm.  
  
  
    || | ||

 

"God, are you all right?  Really?  I'm - I swear to you - "  
  
She patted Clint's hand.  "I know, you've already said.  I wouldn't be talking to you if I thought you were in on their plans."  She was genuinely relieved, and touched, that Barton's friendship wasn't a con and that he'd searched for her.  He'd remembered her.  
  
She had been raised - trained - to be invisible - but Barton remembered her.  
  
"The - tell me about your friends," he said, glancing through the throngs of over-sugared children to Steve, Maria and Bruce.  James was patrolling the perimeter, invisible.  
  
"You saved my life," she said honestly.  "But Steve...he saved my sanity.  Maybe my soul.  If they hadn't put me in the room with him, if I'd woken up alone - Fred would still be a wriggling monster in my guts and not an actual child.  I hope you get a chance to know him, you'll see - he found a way to communicate, to keep my mind alive when my body was taken from me."  She took a deep breath and met his eyes seriously.  "And if you can forgive me for my kills, then you can accept that James wasn't in control when he was the Soldier."  
  
Clint scoffed.  "Whatever, Bucky Barnes has nothing to worry about from me.  I'm glad you had people taking care of you."  
  
"I can take care of myself.  But Fred makes everything different.  Friends make things different," Natasha said.  
  
Clint nodded.  "Amen.  What's your plan?"  
  
"We're going to kill everyone on the list," Natasha said.  
  
"List?" Clint repeated.  
  
"Pierce does payroll," James answered, reaching across the table and placing bottled water in front of her.  She smiled because Clint visibly flinched at their silent guest.  "HYDRA has a rewards program; it goes by recruits, donations, laws passed, casualty counts, etcetera.  Voluntary assassins make great money with them."  
  
"Captain Rogers is okay with mass murder as a viable solution?" Barton asked.  
  
"It's HYDRA," James said, because it was obvious to him.  
  
"We're a team and even if Bruce is slanting Steve's votes in a non-lethal direction - we're going to get them all," she said.  
  
"Pokemon," Clint said.  
  
"Nothing happens until Fred's safe," James said.  "The mission now is Fred.  The rest is still in progress."  
  
"You trust her, and Thirteen?" Natasha asked him, nodding to Maria.  They hadn't met Thirteen yet, but Steve had been in touch and seemed to like her.  
  
"Yeah.  They're on the level and Maria's made it clear she's on your team, or Steve's at least," Clint smirked.  
  
"Finally, confirmation.  I told Bruce she was flirting," James said.  "He owes me twenty bucks."  
  
Natasha narrowed her eyes at the woman.  
  
"It's not like Banner doesn't have stars in his eyes for you," Barton added.  
  
"And now Steve owes me twenty," James beamed.  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
"Nothing from Barton or Thirteen?"  
  
Maria shook her head to answer James' question but didn't move from her spot on the couch.  Banner had given good advice and she'd like to think it was helping to stroke Steve's hair while he boggled at _Love It or List It_ on HGTV.  
  
"I hope Thirteen gets to kill the guy she's spying on.  He sounds like an asshole," Steve said absently.  
  
Her phone buzzed and it wasn't one of her burners, but her SHIELD regulation ringtone.  She put her finger to her lips and Steve muted the TV so she could answer it.  
  
"Hill."  
  
"Maria, it's Jasper.  Where are you?"  
  
Steve leaned in close to her ear.  _"Who's that, baby?  Come back to bed."_  
  
She wanted to glare at him but his gruff voice turned her ovaries into giggling little girls.  Sitwell snickered.  "Ah, now I see how it is.  You could've just asked me to cover for you."  
  
"Why are you calling me on my vacation, Sitwell?" Maria countered.  
  
"I wanted to know what crawled up your mentor's ass, he's been pulling reports that have been closed for decades and it's putting everyone on edge.  I thought maybe you were off running errands for him," Sitwell replied.  
  
"I'm not Fury's lapdog," Maria replied.  "What do you think he's looking for?"  
  
"Let me know if you hear anything, will you?" he hedged.  "I don't want to lose my shot if he's cleaning house - meaning I don't want to get fired, but I definitely want a promotion if somebody else gets fired."  God, she should have known Sitwell was a snake but she just considered him ambitious and tired of being fucked over for promotions.  But HYDRA.  Shit.  Weasel.  
  
"I didn't think they were going to be obvious about recon," James said when she hung up the phone.  
  
"He said my mentor, so it's either Coulson or Fury and not on our tip.  Barton was going to tell Coulson soon, but he wouldn't get noticed," Maria said.  "Fury might make it obvious just to stir shit up but he doesn't know what he's dealing with.  He might suspect a mole, but not HYDRA."  
  
"Find out what you can so we can change our plans accordingly," Steve said.  "You're headed back in two days and we'll be blind again."  
  
"Oh, we'll be in touch, Captain," Maria said.  "You can trust Coulson, he'll be the first we reach out to and I trust him implicitly.  He'll do whatever he can to help Fred."  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
Tony had no idea why Coulson would text him for an urgent meeting and then send this Abercrombie model in his place.  Captain America.  What the hell.  
  
He said he was Captain America.  
  
Tony would know if the Captain had been found, hell, he'd been busy trying not to die of palladium poisoning, but he would have known if they'd found the Captain because they would have found the shield and Vibranium might be the only metal that could save him.  
  
Fury would have told him.  Coulson would have told him.  Granted, Coulson was the one that 'suggested' he take a meeting but he would have explained it instead of sending this guy.  
  
"Here," the man said, holding out a flash drive.  
  
"What's that?" Tony asked.  He didn't like to be handed things.  
  
'Steve' didn't seem to be that sharp and smiled at him, like they knew each other.  Like there wasn't a virus or a bomb on that drive.  "It's got the evidence to convince you I'm not full of crap."  He dropped it on the table and Tony relented enough to stick it in one of JARVIS' secure ports to download and contain the data.  He made a note of the flashing alert from his AI notifying him that SHIELD was en route.  
  
At least he wouldn't have to kick the guy out himself.  He'd probably need to call the suit for that considering 'Steve's' physique.  
  
The man's phone flashed and he glanced at it.  And frowned.  "Oh, wow.  I should have known our luck would turn," the Captain said as he texted a number and then crushed the phone in his hand before meeting Tony's eyes again.  "Didn't think it would be you."  
  
Tony rolled his eyes and waited for SHIELD to collect the man that would surely be the next poster boy for the organization since he wouldn't give them Iron Man.  Captain Rogers would always outrank a Stark.  
  
"Why'd you even come here?  You - "  
  
The Captain raised an eyebrow.  "Sorry, Mr. Stark, but if you cared, you would have listened when I tried to explain."  
  
"Sorry I'm not my father," Tony spat.  
  
The Captain snorted.  "Oh, don't worry, I would never make that mistake.  Howard wasn't a traitor."  
  
The room flooded with agents then and before Tony could offer a reply, they jabbed a needle into Rogers' neck and promptly dragged him out of the room.  
  
"Thanks for the tip, Stark, been looking for that bastard since he escaped months ago," one of them said.  
  
"Wait, what?  Escaped?" Tony replied immediately.  
  
"None of your concern, we'll take those files from you now," the man said, holding out his hand for the USB stick.  
  
JARVIS would have copied off the files by now so he passed it over.  
  
They cleared out of the house within minutes and his phone buzzed from an unlisted number.  *At least we know what side you're on.*  
  
"Sir, you should take a look at the files, I am displaying them now," JARVIS said as several screens lit up with pictures and text.  
  
His stomach dropped when he realized what he was looking at.  "Shit.  They - shit."  
  
"Sir, there are instructions and suggested treatments for palladium poisoning.  It seems SHIELD knows of your ailment and has a cure already.  Perhaps they will share now that you've returned their escaped prisoner."  
  
"Why is Captain America their prisoner?" Tony asked.  "I - I need to talk to Coulson.  Get me Coulson right now, JARVIS."  
  
"I am attempting contact now, I will notify you when I have him on the line."  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
"But - Stark's not HYDRA.  Why would he turn him over if he's not - " Natasha said, numb as she sat in the stolen car on the way to a new safehouse.  Without Steve.  Even Fred was fidgeting inside her basketball belly.  
  
"Because he's an asshole," James growled.  
  
"We had a plan for this, let's all just relax and follow the protocols.  Steve will get out and meet us, we have a plan," Bruce replied.  
  
"Can we trust anyone?  Hill and Barton both said this was the best step, they - what if they're going to turn on us, too?  What if they're waiting for us, too?" she whispered.  
  
"We'll never find out because they're not part of the plan anymore.  Bridges are burned.  Fred's top priority.  Fuck them," James replied.  
  
Her phone buzzed and James took it from her and slung it from the window.  
  
"You have me and Bruce and Steve.  Nobody else matters.  The team's back to basics, no more walk-ons," James said flatly.  
  
"We follow the plan, Nat, everything's still on schedule.  Fred's going to be safe.  They won't get her, okay?  I'll stomp anyone that comes near you into mush and I won't even feel guilty about it," Bruce said.  She noticed his knuckles were white on the wheel.  "We have plans for a reason.  Steve will be really upset if we don't stick to the plan.  I will be really upset if this goes to shit before you're taken care of.  We're all worried about Steve but we have to hold it together because we'll lose everything if one of us goes off the reservation.  Are my eyes green?"  
  
Natasha didn't process the non sequitur at first but James immediately lunged between the seats to catch sight of Bruce's eyes.  Oh fuck.  
  
"You're clear.  And we're sticking to the plan," James said, pausing to squeeze her arm before returning to the backseat.  
  
She reached over and carefully peeled Bruce's right hand off the steering wheel and laced their fingers together.  "The plan.  If Steve were here, he'd insist we practice our Spanish and practice our cover stories."  
  
Bruce exhaled and she timed her breath.  She inhaled when he exhaled and his eyes were warm and totally Bruce when he smiled at her.  
  
"I really wanted to put that bullet in Pierce's head myself, but let's see how pacifism works out, right Doc?" James said.  
  
"Say it in Spanish," Bruce replied, squeezing her hand.  
  
Steve would be back before Fred showed her face.  Steve would come back to his team before they had to go for him.  
  
She knew the plan, but she hoped that Barton and Hill would help Steve if they had the chance.  
  
She didn't know if she could deal with the idea that HYDRA would drug or freeze him.  Torture she could deal with, Steve could deal with it - but not that.  Not alone.  
  
Bruce squeezed her hand again and she pulled herself out of her thoughts.  They still had a mission and they were going to complete it.  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
"Why didn't you just come to me directly - I should have been all over this - " Tony blurted out.  
  
Coulson blinked at him dumbly.  "I only found out a few days ago.  The only reason they agreed to bring you in was because I gave them my word you'd help.  It's irrelevant now, I'm not privy to their fail-safe plan, but I'm sure they have one.  We haven't even gone to Fury yet, that's how important this was to keep secret."  
  
Tony shuddered.  "I didn't know.  I trusted SHIELD because of you - "  
  
"Then you should have trusted that I wouldn't send Captain America to you if I wanted SHIELD involved," Coulson snapped.  His phone buzzed and Tony was relieved when his unflappable mask fell back into place - but it didn't relieve any of his regret.  
  
"Sir, I suggest turning on the television, it will be relevant to your discussions.  Ms. Potts is on her way."  
  
The TVs switched on and all the channels had alerts scrolling across the screen.  
  
"They hacked the emergency broadcast system.  They're leaking everything," Coulson said, lowering his phone.  "I need to sit down."  
  
  
    || | ||  
  
  
"Hi," she smiled down at the man on the table.  Captain America.  Her aunt's epic true love - and fuck if she didn't see why just by his bright blue eyes - not that his body was anything to ignore, but the eyes were the thing.  
  
She hit the keys to unlatch his restraints but he didn't look away from her as he sat up.  
  
"It's nice to finally meet you, Thirteen," he said, offering his hand.  
  
"I've been warned that you are unnaturally polite in person and that I shouldn't hold it against you," she said, shaking his hand.  He had huge, strangely smooth hands.  
  
"I won't tell you what I've been warned about because it's not polite," he said, smiling slightly.  
  
She rolled her eyes.  "I know, Maria's got dibs.  You ready to blow this joint?"  
  
He hesitated.  "I thought we weren't doing the explosives yet."  
  
She bit back a laugh, surprised.  "It's an expression and please don't blow up anything until we're outside.  The leak's live and if we don't get a move on, the media's going to catch sight of you before you get back to your little family."  
  
He relaxed visibly.  "Oh, good.  How's that working out?"  
  
"Martial law's only been declared in two states so far so that's promising.  Stock market's probably going to crash soon, though," she considered.  "I'm not sure releasing the whole HYDRA roster was a good idea."  
  
He shrugged.  "Easiest way to pick out the traitors."  
  
"The secretary of state and defense were on that list, do you have any idea - "  
  
"Nope," he smiled brightly.  "Completely do not care.  Thanks for the rescue, though."  
  
Sharon scanned him.  "You could have gotten free at any time, couldn't you?"  
  
He shrugged again.  "I don't really like going on murder sprees if I don't have to.  I promised Maria I'd give her 6 hours to work her magic if we went with this plan.  How are your people?  Is Peggy safe?"  
  
It was nice of him to ask, even if he already knew she'd been moved to a safer nursing home weeks ago through their frequent email chats.  "They've gone to ground until the dust settles."  
  
"Sure," Steve smiled.  "That's safer. People don't always run from a fight because they're scared.  I'm running because I have people to keep safe."  
  
"You're not running.  Maybe a tactical retreat, but definitely not running," she said.  They stepped through the exit into a chaotic parking lot littered with bodies and loud with gunfire.  
  
She wasn't concerned and Steve only raised his eyes to look at the sky.  She held out a set of keys and nodded toward a motorcycle.  "I expect an email as soon as Fred shows his or her face."  
  
He smiled brightly and she knew why her aunt never got over this man.  He embraced her and climbed on the bike.

Her aunt would be proud.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I totes used Tony as a plot device in this one, but he totes is redeemed and gives Fred a Vibranium rattle for his or her baby shower. There will probably be an epilogue to make things fluffy, maybe next Thursday, or not. (In other words, they will unfuck their lives later, probably.)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> *checks box* *preens*


End file.
